The other day we took a day trip up into the mountains to see a 17th-century house, built by some of Spain's ruling class. The house was built in a colonial-meets-hacienda style. There were rooms for cooking, dining, and sleeping, obviously, but there were also rooms for honoring dead ancestors (complete with wax effigies!) and several sitting rooms. There was also a really old library, with some books published in the 1600s. Of course our grubby hands weren't allowed to touch them, but I would've loved to see what a geography or medicinal text looked like back then. The greatest thing was the mountains. Just a 45-minute drive out of dry, arid Alicante gives you lush, green, cooler climate. Observe:

After touring the little castle we went to a town called Altea to take in some more Mediterranean. The town was what you would usually think of if someone said "Mediterranean coastal town". Most of the streets were cobbled or mosaiced (I know that's not a word). We spent a lot of time on the beach, and I sat and laughed with some girls and took in the sun.

 

All in all it was a wonderful day. 

On Friday night I stayed in, but on Saturday Olivia and I went out to try and get some of that Spanish nightlife, which we have not experienced because we are old and peace out at 2 am, presumably to soak our dentures and play with our cats. So we decided that Saturday we should do it. We went out at about 1030 and, while wandering the barrio, ran into one of her friends from Oregon, who was living in England, and visiting Alicante. She was with a girl she met at her hostel, Sophie from Belgium. We had a drink with them (cherry-flavored beer, more a dessert or pool drink than what I like my beer to taste like) until about 12:30. At that point we got to our pseudo-crabby "I want to get into my pajamas" phase but egged each other into staying out later. After an hour of people-watching and playing "spot the drunk American who can't stand up straight" we finally found a dance club that seemed marginally clean and happenin. 

Long story short, we lost track of time busting various moves and I got to bed at 8 am. Now I am a real Spaniard. But I can't say I'll do that again. I am still feeling the pain of grooving that much and being out that late. It was loud in there and my ears hurt.

This week the group's going to the central market, a museum, and a winery, so more pictures soon!

Hasta luego,

Maren